It's All In How You Look At It
by Hipster Canada
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is a writer, trying his hardest to finish his first book and break into the scene. He has always been an outcast; a book judged by it's cover. Then he meets Matthew: a young man who shows Gilbert a new way to view the world... and changes Gilbert's life in the process. PruCan AU
1. Chapter 1

It was an ordinary day.

Gray, drizzling rain, and entirely colorless.

Gilbert Beilschmidt hurried down the same street he walked down every single day, toward his favorite coffee shop. He had the hood of his black sweatshirt up, covering his shock of bright, white hair. He was used to ignoring the stares. Hadn't any of these people ever seen an albino before? He adjusted his messenger bag strap and ducked into the coffee shop and headed for the counter. It was quiet today. Gilbert liked it better that way.

The barista made his drink almost before he asked for it – she knew it by now – and handed it to him in a flash. Gilbert could tell her smile was forced, but that was okay. He knew what that felt like. He shot her a smile in return and turned toward the tables.

Gilbert was headed for his regular table next to the window, looking out on the street, but found that it was already taken by a slim blond man in sunglasses and a white shirt with long red sleeves. Very Dave Strider, Gilbert thought. Gilbert hesitated and glanced around, mentally choosing which other table to take. The blond turned in his direction. "Can I help you?"

"No, I'm just... trying to pick where to sit." Gilbert gave a kind of sheepish grin and decided on the table right next to his regular one.

"You usually sit here, don't you," said the blond. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal."

"You can sit with me if you like. My ride should be here soon anyway."

Gilbert paused, considering this offer. He slipped the strap of his messenger bag over his head. The blond pulled his drink toward himself on the table, clearing room. Gilbert decided there was no harm in a little civil conversation. The guy _seemed _nice enough. And he'd issued the invitation.

Gilbert sat his bag on the table and sat down across from the blond. Gilbert found it a little weird that the guy was wearing aviator sunglasses indoors. On a rainy day. He wasn't one to judge, though. He got too much of that from other people.

"I'm blind."

"Huh?"

"You were wondering about my sunglasses, eh?"

Gilbert blinked twice. "Uh... kinda."

"I'm blind. Sometimes I take them off inside, but it's just easier to leave them on. That way I don't lose them."

"Makes sense," Gilbert agreed.

"I'm Matthew," the blond said, sticking out his right hand across the table. Gilbert shook it firmly.

"Gilbert. So... how'd you know I was there? If you're blind, I mean."

"I heard your shoes squeak on the tile," Matthew replied.

"But... how'd you know I wasn't just going past on my way to the next table?"

"Well," Matthew began, shifting slightly in his chair. "I heard you talking to the barista. She seemed to know you – or at least how you like your latte. That told me you were a regular. Then you headed this way, I could tell by your footsteps. But you hesitated. Since you're a regular, you probably sit in the same place every time. It's a habit people have. A regular wouldn't have hesitated on his way to his regular seat, unless someone was sitting there."

Gilbert's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Wow. You're good."

Matthew smiled, his slim, pale hands shifting around the styrofoam cup. "Thank you."

Gilbert shifted his bag off the table, lowering it until it rested on the floor; leaning up against the legs of his chair. Matthew's head tilted slightly at the sound. "What's that, a briefcase?"

"My laptop bag," Gilbert replied. "I'm supposed to be working today, but I'm not feeling very inspired with the rain and all."

Matthew's expression turned interested, and his fair eyebrows rose until Gilbert could just see them peeking over the top of his sunglasses. "What do you do?"

"I'm a writer," Gilbert said instantly.

"Oh? What do you write?"

Gilbert took a sip of his latte and bit his lip. Matthew sat, looking attentive, staring at a point just over Gilbert's left shoulder, out the window. "I freelance for a few papers. The occasional magazine."

"I'm sensing a but..."

Gilbert let out a single laugh and grinned down at his latte. "There is a but."

"You don't have to tell me," Matthew replied. "If it's too personal."

"No, it's not. Freelancing pays the bills, but I've been trying my hand at something new. A book."

Matthew's lips curled in a smile. "A book, eh?"

"Yeah. It's something that's... been on my mind for a few years. I worked on it some, but... I really want to finish it. Send it to a publisher, see if it goes anywhere. I'm just... stuck. I need something to spice it up, yanno?"

"Sounds difficult. I wish you the best."

"Yeah." Gilbert looked out the window at the cold rain spattering against the glass. "So Matthew..." Gilbert said in a sort of singsong tone. "Tell me about you, friend. I'm willing to procrastinate on staring at a blank laptop screen for as long as possible this afternoon."

Matthew tucked a lock of golden hair behind his ear and took a careful drink from his cup. "I think I might be able to help you with that. Let's see. Name, Matthew Henri Williams. Age, twenty-three. I still live at home, and work for my father."

"_Henri_," Gilbert repeated in a terrible French accent. Matthew laughed softly.

"Well, Dad swears they agreed on 'Henry', but Papa is way too happy with the French version being on my birth certificate for it to be simple chance. Besides, Dad got his way with my brother's name, so Papa says it's only fair."

"Wait-"

"Two dads," Matthew interrupted. "If you're homophobic, we're going to have some major issues in our friendship."

"On the contrary," Gilbert said, feeling his face heat slightly. It was usually him avoiding the homophobes, not him being asked if he was one. Gilbert was liking this Matthew guy more and more. "I, uh, have those... _preferences_ myself." It was one of the reasons Gilbert was basically a loner. If his albinism wasn't cause enough for him to be labeled by people, his sexual preferences kept most people at a distance. Except for Eli, but Eli was crazy.

"Cool," Matthew said, his face breaking into another wide smile. Gilbert was growing rather fond of that lovely sight. "I'm far too proud of both of my fathers to let anyone talk smack about homosexuals. Dad and Papa fight like cats and dogs... or, I guess like Frenchmen and Englishmen... but they love me and my siblings unconditionally. That's a more than a lot of people with one mom and one dad can say."

"How many siblings do you have? You mentioned a brother."

"Alfred. He's technically the only one."

"Technically," Gilbert deadpanned.

Matthew smirked. "Mitchie and Flora are my cousins, but we grew up together, and Papa treats them like daughters, so I consider them my sisters."

"Ahh, got it."

"What about you? Or am I sharing too many personal details here? My brother says I'm too quiet, but he never gives me a chance to say anything, so I can understand why he'd think that."

"Your brother sounds like a motormouth," Gilbert chuckled. "Naw, it's cool, man. I have a little brother. Ludwig. He's in the military."

"Interesting."

"Where are you from Matthew?" Gilbert asked.

"Right here. Local, born and raised."

"I haven't seen you around before," Gilbert remarked. He was _positive_ he would have noticed Matthew, even if they just passed each other on the street.

Matthew smirked slightly. "Maybe you were looking, but you weren't really _seeing_."

"Oh, look at the blind guy with the vision puns," Gilbert joked. Matthew laughed along with Gilbert.

"Papa always said I was the witty one," Matthew agreed, his smile positively beaming with amusement. "I might not be able to see, but I sure can hear things to remark sarcastically about."

"Is it hard?" Gilbert asked. "Being blind?"

Matthew shrugged. "Not as hard as most people think. I was born blind, so it's just always been this way, just like you've always been able to see. I don't know the difference between red and blue. I've never seen a Christmas snowfall. I don't even know if my socks match today. But I'm okay with that.

"There are perks to being blind, I think," Matthew continued. "I pick up on a lot of stuff that other people don't. I can pick a lock faster than you can sneeze. I don't have to worry about lights when I use the bathroom in the middle of the night..." Matthew let out a little giggle, and took a drink. "I've scared the pants off of Al that way before.

"My sense of smell is pretty good. My hearing is extraordinary. My sense of touch is excellent. That's how I 'see' things, because I can't see them in the traditional sense. I rely very heavily on what other people explain to me, but they can't do everything for me, and I don't want them too."

"How protective is your family?" Gilbert asked.

"Pretty protective," Matthew admitted. "Papa was loath to leave me alone this afternoon, but it isn't practical to bring a blind man to the supermarket on a Saturday. Not only can I not see the little children I'm about to run over, I can't navigate with all the noise. I much prefer to wait in a quiet coffee shop and converse with a kind and curious stranger such as yourself."

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

"There are many cases in which I have ignored my fathers' overly sensible advice," Matthew remarked. "But I trust my judgment. I also know the statistical probability of meeting anyone who would take advantage of me in a coffee shop off of Main Street is very, very low. I think you have better things to do than kidnap a poor, not-so-defenseless blind man. At least not before he finishes his tea."

Again, Gilbert had to laugh. "I like you, Matthew. You're all right."

"Thanks. You don't seem too bad yourself."

Gilbert was openly staring at Matthew at this point. It was probably rude, but Matthew would never know. Gilbert was sure he had never seen anyone so _beautiful_ before in his whole life. Matthew's smooth skin and graceful features, framed with silky hair like spun gold that was just long enough to display the waves and curls in it, but not too long to be scruffy. And that smile. That curving smile on those slightly chapped pink lips lit up the room. Gilbert swore there was no sound on Earth he could that would even come close to being a comparison for Matthew's laugh. Gil was fully aware that his author side was probably running away with the descriptions, but the man sitting across the table from him simply lent himself to every poetic description Gilbert could find.

"Gilbert?" Matthew said suddenly, and Gilbert's face flushed red at being caught staring until he remembered Matthew couldn't see him. "This is going to sound really weird, and you can absolutely say no. I just... kind of want to see the new friend I've made today."

Gilbert got the hint. He slid their drinks off to one side, and leaned further across the table. Glancing down, he found Matthew's slim fingers and grasped them in his. They were calloused and warm. Gilbert lifted Matthew's fingers until they rested on one side of his face, and did the same with his other hand.

Matthew's fingertips brushed softly against Gilbert's skin, locating his ears, slipping into his hairline and tracing down his nose. Gilbert tried not to let his breath hitch when they slid across his lips. Gilbert wondered if Matthew's sensitive fingers could feel the blush running rampant across his face. Matthew ran his fingers along Gilbert's jawline and dipped into the slight dimple at his chin.

Matthew smelled faintly of pine.

When Matthew had "seen" his fill, he lowered his hands and sat back. Gilbert moved one of Matthew hands to wrap around his now lukewarm tea, so he could find it. Matthew was smiling, but his cheeks were tinged pink. The adorable sight made Gilbert grin like a moron. "Thanks, Gilbert."

"Not a problem."

"Your hair is soft," Matthew said faintly, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red.

"Thank you," Gilbert chuckled.

"You know what I wish most?"

"What's that?"

"I wish I knew what colors actually looked like. What color is your hair? Tell me it's brown."

"It's white."

"White?" Matthew tilted his head. "Like... snow?"

"Yeah. It's that white."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"I thought hair turned white with old age."

"Mine's always been white. I'm an albino, which pretty much means I don't have any pigments in my coloring. White hair, red eyes, pale skin."

"Ohh," Matthew breathed, leaning closer to the table. "That's cool."

"Most people don't think so. They just stare and avoid me, because red eyes and white hair are just too different." Gilbert tilted his head to one side, studying Matthew. "You're one of the only people I've ever met who think it's cool, and not disgusting."

Matthew shook his head. "It _sounds_ cool. Unique. Another perk to being blind. You can't judge by the external."

"Matthieu!" A tall, slender man with shoulder length blond hair much like Matthew's was calling out as he entered the coffee shop.

"That's my Papa," Matthew said, a small smile gracing his lips. "He took a little longer than I guessed. I hope I didn't distract you from your writing for too long.

"Ahh, no way. It was great talking to you."

"Matthieu, have you made a friend while I was away?" Matthew's father had reached their table, and smiled charmingly at Gilbert.

"Oui, Papa," Matthew said, carefully pushing back from the table and rising to his feet. "Gilbert, this is my father, Francis. Papa, this is Gilbert." Gilbert stood to shake Francis' hand. "He is a writer. We had a nice chat to make up for my sitting at his table."

"You can sit at my table any time, Matthew," Gilbert said.

"Say, Gilbert. Are you busy tomorrow?"

Francis raised an eyebrow, looking at Matthew in curiosity. Gilbert just shook his head, then mentally kicked himself for his stupidity. "Nah, I'm not busy. Why?"

"There's a show at Papa's art gallery tomorrow. A black-tie fund raising gala. I'm allotted a guest for the evening. Think you might want to come?"

Francis was openly gaping at his son now. Gilbert tried to ignore it. "Uh, sure, why not?"

Matthew smiled. "Great. Seven o'clock at the gallery. It's just down at the end of Main Street."

"Yeah, I know the one."

"Great. I'll make sure you're on the list." Matthew turned toward Francis. "Are you ready to go then, Papa?"

"Ah, o-oui, oui, mon cher," Francis said. "Au reviour, Gilbert~"

"See ya," Gilbert said, sitting back down. He watched as Francis led Matthew out of the coffee shop and into the rain still covering Main Street. Then he looked down at his latte, grinned, and fished out his laptop.

He was feeling suddenly inspired.

* * *

**_Author note:_****_ There will be more to come, my ducklings! I have most of it written, but I have to work through it and figure out how to tie it together correctly. Also, I'm trying to work up to courage to include the lemon I spent a week and a half trying to write. :3 If I decide to include that little gem (har-dee-har-har yeah right) the rating will go up.  
Wait for me patiently, and hopefully I shall not disappoint. :)  
_**

**_Love,  
Hipster Canada_**


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert straightened his tie in the reflection in one of the store-front windows lined along main street and squared his shoulders before turning back toward his destination. Three storefronts down was the art gallery. Out front stood a middle-aged man holding a clipboard, and two young women. One of them, who looked about twenty years old, had a long, sand-colored braid and a conservative dark pink dress. The other had her dark hair in two pigtails and wore a soft blue dress that swished around the tops of her knees. Her high heels, manicure, and the ribbons in her hair were all the same shade of fire engine red. As Gilbert came closer, the man with the clipboard glanced up and motioned to halt the conversation.

"Name?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

The man glanced down at his list, running his finger down the page. After several moments, he quickly looked back up at Gilbert, surprise written across his face, his bushy eyebrows as high as they could go. "You're _Matthew_'s guest?"

"Uh, yeah."

Three astonished glances were exchanged between the young women and the man with the clipboard before the man shook his head. "Well all right then. Um... Michelle. Would you please escort Mr. Beilschmidt inside and help him find Matthew?"

"Of course, Uncle Artie," the girl with the pigtails said. Gilbert guessed she was around seventeen. She grinned slyly up at Gilbert. "Come on, Gilbert, let's go find Mattie."

Gilbert nodded and fell into step beside the young woman as they entered the gallery. "I'm Mitchie, by the way," she told him as they slowly worked their way through the crowd gathered in the gallery. "Matthew's cousin."

"Nice to meet you," Gilbert said.

Mitchie folded her hands in front of her, smiling at people they passed. "So how did you meet Mattie?"

"Coffee shop."

"I don't recall him mentioning you. How long have you known each other?"

"...Since yesterday."

Mitchie's jaw dropped open and she stared at Gilbert. "Yesterday? And... he invited you here tonight?"

Gilbert nodded hesitantly. "Is that... unusual for him?"

Mitchie nodded, and Gilbert could tell by her expression he must have made an exaggeration. "He never brings guests to these things. We were all really surprised when he asked Artie to add a name to the list yesterday. Ooh! There's Alfred! Alfie!" Mitchie went up on her tiptoes to wave at a carbon copy of Matthew, only with shorter, paler blond hair. Alfred smiled at Mitchie and excused himself from the conversation he was in. "Alfred, have you seen Mattie tonight?"

"He was... thataway. With Francis," Alfred replied, pointing toward the back of the gallery. He turned his blue eyes on Gilbert. "Who's this?"

"This is Matthew's guest," Mitchie told Alfred, a scandalous glint in her dark brown eyes. "Gilbert."

Alfred raised one brow and looked Gilbert up and down. "Oh really?" Alfred suddenly raised his head and looked over Gilbert's shoulder. He gestured toward the woman with the braid from earlier. "I think Flora's looking for you, Mitch. Don't worry, I'll make sure Gil here finds Mattie."

Mitchie grinned at Gilbert and turned on one of her red high-heels, disappearing into the crowd without another word.

Alfred slung an arm over Gilbert's shoulders and began steering him toward the back, less crowded part of the gallery. "So Gilbert. My brother invited you?"

"Yes, and I'm beginning to think that's somewhat unusual for him," Gilbert said, thinking of Francis's obvious surprise yesterday, then Arthur and Mitchie and Flora at the door, gaping at him like he was some eighth wonder of the world.

"It is," Alfred affirmed. "Mattie's too quiet. He doesn't make friends real easy. He prefers to keep his family close, and everyone else at a distance."

Gilbert wondered if Alfred was talking about the same Matthew who had initiated an hour long conversation with Gilbert in a coffee shop yesterday afternoon. Gilbert just then caught sight of his coffee shop angel from yesterday: looking quite different in an well tailored, immaculate black suit. His sunglasses were gone as well, and Gilbert caught sight of a pair of clouded, violet-blue eyes which themselves saw nothing. Gilbert told himself to stop staring, and promptly ignored those orders.

"Do me a favor, Gilbo?" Alfred suddenly spoke in Gilbert's ear, his voice low. "Keep quiet for just a sec while I talk to Mattie, 'kay? Wait right here."

Alfred released Gilbert's shoulders and kept moving towards Matthew. Gilbert saw Francis and a few gala guests on the other side of the room, but this part of the gallery was otherwise quiet. Gilbert heard Alfred's voice, but didn't listen closely enough to make out what he was saying. It was kind of obvious Alfred didn't quite know what to make of Gilbert. Gilbert didn't care. He was here for Matthew. That was all he was going to think about right now. He didn't care what the rest of them thought. Matthew had invited him.

"Is Gilbert here?" Matthew's crystal voice floated clearly across the room and caught Gilbert's attention. Matthew's expression turned to one of exasperation. "Alfred, I meant I can smell his cologne. He's in the room, isn't he?"

Alfred looked defeated, but Gilbert crossed the room until he stood directly in front of Matthew. "Hey there, Birdie," Gilbert said, not even sure where the nickname came from. It fit somehow, though. Gilbert liked it.

Matthew's head turned at the sound of Gilbert's voice, and he smiled. Gilbert couldn't help but return it. "Gilbert! You came."

"Of course I did."

"Did you look around yet?"

"Nope. I came to find you."

"Then I'll walk with you," Matthew said. "That is, if you don't mind helping make sure the blind man doesn't bowl over any important clientele."

"I don't mind at all," Gilbert grinned. He tucked Matthew's hand around the crook of his elbow, neatly ignoring the daggers Alfred was staring at them.

"The gallery is magnificent tonight, I'm told. Papa says it is the best collective display we've ever had. Are you ready then?"

"If you are."

"I am. Just one thing... Hey Al?"

"Yeah Mattie?"

"You can stop glaring at Gilbert now."

Gilbert couldn't stop his chuckle as Alfred flushed red and immediately ducked his head. Matthew was shaking his head, looking dully annoyed. "Honestly, you all need to stop freaking out over my inviting Gilbert. None of you have ever thought twice about any number of the guests _you've_ brought to these things, Alfred. Then I go and invite one friend, one time, and it's about to make the nightly news."

"You just-"

"I know I've never brought a guest, Al. But you know what they say. There's a first time for everything. Now don't stalk us. We're going to walk through the auction display. Just... go find Katy or Mei or whoever it is you brought tonight." Matthew tugged on Gilbert's arm and they headed for the art display.

"Her name is Nat!" Alfred called after them. Matthew just waved a hand and otherwise ignored his brother.

"I'm sorry about him," Matthew said softly as Gilbert led them toward the hall that housed the paintings which were to be auctioned off tonight. "I told you... they're very protective. Overly protective."

"I'd do the same thing if it were my little brother," Gilbert told him. "Heck, I probably have."

Matthew laughed softly. "I'm sure you're nowhere near as bad as my family."

Gilbert brought them to a stop in front of the first display. "Do you want me to tell you about them?"

"You can if you want to," Matthew said. "Alfred's terrible at it. Papa's pretty good, but he gets too caught up in the brush strokes, and comparing it to other artists, and forgets to finish telling me what it looks like."

Gilbert smirked. "Well then. Challenge accepted." Gilbert turned away from his escort to look at the painting. "Well let's see. It's a meadow. You know what a meadow is?"

"A bit of grassland, or low ground near a river."

"Oh, but the technical definition is so boring, Birdie."

"It's not like I've ever seen one before, Gilbert. The technical description is all I have to go on."

Gilbert sighed, tilting his head, letting descriptions run through his mind until he locked on the right one. "You know what it's like it sit in grass? Run your hands across the top. Smell it, freshly mowed. That's green. It doesn't matter what it looks like. Feel it. Smell it. You know it. Do you know it?"

Matthew nodded.

"Picture a meadow full of grass, as far as your eye can see, dipping down for a ways, then reaching up until it meets with the sky miles and miles away. It's a hundred shades of green and amber and gold. It's dusk. The sun is sinking down, casting the world into a rainbow of shadows. The clouds reflect heaven's rays of gold, piercing through the clouds like fire."

"I can see it," Matthew whispered. His eyes stared straight into the painting, but Gilbert knew he meant it in a more abstract sense. He couldn't see the painting with his eyes. He could see it in his mind. "It's beautiful."

"It's not bad. Nothing compared to the real thing," Gilbert said, studying the painting again. "Shall we move on?"

Matthew nodded eagerly and let Gilbert tug him on to the next painting, and the next, describing as they went. It was a diverse gallery. There were portraits and landscapes, in all types of art styles. The abstracts were the most fun to describe, because Gilbert told Matthew what he saw in the painting, not what was physically there in front of him. Abstracts were Gilbert's favorite pieces.

There was one particular painting that caught Gilbert's eye. It's wasn't fully abstract, but it left more to the imagination of the interpreter than most of the others. Gilbert brought Matthew to a stop in front of it and stood silent for a long while. He only took his eyes off of it when he heard Matthew softly call his name. "Sorry, Birdie," Gilbert said. "I'm not sure if I can describe this one for you."

"Why not?"

"It's..." Gilbert faltered. What was it? Why was this painting resonating so deeply within him? It was like the artist had somehow captured a piece of Gilbert's soul in the painting, and Gilbert couldn't quite put his finger on which piece. "It's black and white, gray and boring. It's like a crowd of people, blending together, almost completely indistinguishable from one another. And then there's red."

"Tell me what red looks like."

"Red... red is the color of... a passionate embrace. Red is the color of... of a smoldering flame, burning hot as the sun. Red... is the tie between two people who have absolutely nothing in common, except their love for each other."

Matthew nodded, his signal that he understood what Gilbert was saying. Matthew's grip tightened on Gilbert's arm ever so slightly. "So it's all gray except for one bit of red?" Gilbert nodded. "Why is that so hard to describe?"

"It shouldn't be," Gilbert told Matthew. "Such a simple painting... you'd think it'd be easier," he continued softly. Gilbert's brain suddenly raced with a million thoughts and ideas, and he tried to find a lock on a good enough description to give Matthew. "The red... the red sticks out. It will never blend in with the monochromes, and it will never... it will never be like the rest of the crowd. But I can't really tell if that's actually a bad thing or not."

"It's all in how you look at it," Matthew said. "But I was going for the good aspects of it when I painted it."

Gilbert tore his eyes from the painting to look at Matthew. "You..."

"Unless there's another painting in this gallery which looks exactly like I wanted mine to."

Gilbert glanced around for the display card that went with the painting. "_Untitled_ by Henri Bonnefoy."

Matthew smiled. "Papa told me to use my real name, but I don't like drawing attention to myself until I want it. I just... can't think of a good title for it."

Gilbert studied the blond clutching to his arm for a moment. Dressed in his sleek black suit, his golden hair well brushed and shining, violet-blue eyes wide open and yet blind to the world – in the physical sense, anyway. Gilbert was certain he'd only begun to scratch the surface with his coffee shop angel; a man with such amazing insights to the world he couldn't even see. "What other hidden talents do you have, Matthew? Singing? Dancing? Incredible flexibility?" Matthew only smiled.

"I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out, eh?" Matthew carefully leaned closer to Gilbert, letting his other hand rest on top of Gilbert's arm. "Good things come to those who wait, Gilbert."

* * *

_to be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Mistakes made in this chapter were cringe worthy. I believe all have now been amended.  
Thank you to everyone who helped me realize my slip-ups**_

* * *

Gilbert and Matthew wandered around the gallery for a while longer. Matthew was stopped fairly frequently by random people who seemed to know Matthew, or at least be acquainted with his father's business. Matthew treated them all with his own personal brand of adorable politeness, holding a few minutes of conversation with them before gently breaking off and moving on to the next art piece with Gilbert.

Gilbert couldn't take his eyes from Matthew. He tried not to stare – not very hard, mind you – but his gaze kept coming back to Matthew every few seconds. He was quickly learning all the little quirks the blind man had, and each one was even more entertaining to Gilbert than the last one.

Several hours passed with Gilbert barely noticing. He kept a steady conversation with Matthew, and he couldn't recall ever being more interested in just talking to someone like he talked to Matthew. Matthew told him all about the gallery; all the famous paintings they had displayed here, and which popular artists had started out in their gallery. Matthew was very knowledgeable about the gallery and the subject of art.

Then Matthew moved on to talk about his family. Gilbert could see he was even more passionate about this topic than the previous one. Gilbert listened intently as Matthew told him all about each member of his family – about how his parents had met, and had Matthew and Alfred. About each of Alfred's many, many dates all of whom were obviously beginning to become a blur in the blind man's mind with their number and very short expiration date on Alfred's arm. About Mitchie, the dancer; about Flora, the gambler. About his beloved Papa and his wonderful Dad. Gilbert thought Matthew was a fantastic story teller.

After many, many crazy stories about his family, Matthew asked about Gilbert's. The albino took a breath and smiled sadly at the ground. "My family's not quite as cool as yours. My mom died when I was a kid. My dad... well, my dad always liked my brother better. My brother is just like Vater: strong, disciplined, tidy. Vater... was in the military for a long time before he married Mutti. He was always so proud of Ludwig. But I always knew he was disappointed in me.

"I spent my teenaged years slacking off – drugs, alcohol, and sex were my three best friends. I OD'ed so many times... sometimes on purpose. I figured it didn't matter. Vater had Ludwig, and he hated me anyway. Good riddance, right?" Gilbert let out a shuddering, disgusted laugh.

"What happened?" Matthew breathed. His expression was one of pain and worry. His grip tightened on Gilbert's hand. "You... you got clean, right?"

"Oh yeah," Gilbert nodded. "Eli made sure of that."

"Who's Eli?"

Gilbert smiled softly. "Eli was my guardian angel. Granted, she hits like an MLB all-star, and nothing about her is at all angelic... but she saved my life. She really did. She's one of my best friends. One of my only friends," Gilbert added softly.

Matthew smiled. "Sounds... interesting."

Gilbert chuckled. "Interesting is an understatement when we're talking about Eli."

"So how did she get you clean?"

"When I was eighteen, I OD'ed at a party – on cheap crack and vodka. Eli was there, took me to the hospital. I don't remember the party... or most of the following week. Eli made me go into rehab after my initial detox. She sponsored me, helped me through. Still checks on me every week to make sure I'm doing okay. She helped me get my GED, and she got me a job at the newspaper office. I started in the mailroom, but... a little hard work, and the right people catching a glimpse of my writing..." Gilbert smiled at the memory. "And here I am today."

"That's incredible," Matthew said. He ran his thumb over the back of Gilbert's hand. "I'm glad she was at that party."

Gilbert resisted the sudden urge to kiss the top of Matthew's golden head. "Me too."

"So are you a good writer?" Matthew asked suddenly, a grin on his face.

Gilbert laughed at the sudden change in topic, but he was glad to get away from the memories. He had vowed a long time ago never to go back to that lifestyle, but the memories of how stupid he had been as a teenager still pained him – even seven years after a successful rehab. "I like to think so."

"Will you read me something you've written?"

"Sure."

"Like now?"

Gilbert let out a single, slightly incredulous laugh. "I don't have anything with me _now._ Don't you ever read the newspaper?"

Matthew shrugged. "Not really. I prefer to _listen_ to my news." Matthew's face crinkled into a smile.

"All right. I'll bring something next time we see each other."

Matthew's smile brightened further. "Next time. I like the sound of that."

Gilbert's face flushed, and he stared down at his shoes.

"Bring something from your book?" Matthew requested softly. Gilbert brought his gaze up to Matthew's face.

"From my book?" Gilbert repeated. Matthew nodded. "Okay," Gilbert agreed. "I'll bring a chapter and read it to you. Don't blame me if it sucks."

Matthew let out a laugh. "I doubt it will suck, Gilbert."

Gilbert shrugged. "You never know."

"So when _are_ we getting together again?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert didn't respond right away.

"Do you _want_ to see me again?"

"Yes!" Gilbert replied instantly, then winced and hoped he didn't sound too... _desperate_. "I'd love... to see you again, Matthew," he said. Matthew smiled.

"Good. How about you come over for dinner on Friday?"

Gilbert hesitated for a second. "You sure you're okay with that? Your family seemed to be a little..."

Matthew shook his head. "They'll get over it."

"Okay. Friday then."

"And after dinner, you can read me that chapter of your book, eh?"

Gilbert let out a low chuckle. "Sounds like a date."

"What's a date?"

Matthew visibly jumped at the sound of a new voice coming up from behind Gilbert. The albino turned and saw the furry-browed man from the door: whom he now knew to be Matthew's father, Arthur. "Dad, you scared me!"

"Apologies, lad. I didn't mean to. What's a date?" he repeated, looking suspiciously at Gilbert. The white-haired man resisted the urge to wriggle under the scrutinizing green-eyed gaze.

"Gilbert's coming over for dinner next Friday night, Dad," Matthew informed his father.

"Oh?" Arthur's voice was light, but his face was a touch more menacing.

"Yes," Matthew intoned. "Please try not to scare him away. You and Papa are the ones who keep saying I should make some new friends."

Arthur looked slightly convicted at that. "Yes. Well, right. We do say that, don't we? Your friend can come for dinner next weekend. Fridays are Francis's night to cook," Arthur informed Gilbert.

"Papa cooks every night," Matthew reminded Arthur. Arthur looked a touch put out at this remark.

"Well not all of us are so bloody talented in the kitchen!" he exclaimed. "Just because I've set the kitchen on fire a few times is _not_ reason enough for Francis to permanently bar me from the kitchen!"

"Nothin' you cook is edible," Alfred jumped in, suddenly appearing behind Arthur and clapping a hand on his father's shoulder. The Englishman turned a glare on his newly-arrived son.

"Like fast food and Gatorade is any better," Arthur snapped. "When we say it's your night to cook, Alfred, we mean you should _cook_, and not raid the local McDonald's and tell your brother you spent an hour in the kitchen!"

"He couldn't even tell the difference until you guys ratted me out! Right, Mattie?"

"Wrong," Matthew snickered. "You don't need to see a McDonald's hamburger to know what it tastes like, hoser."

Alfred pouted and Gilbert tried his best not to laugh. Matthew had portrayed his family _exactly_ as they were. It was night, Gilbert thought, that Matthew had such a good rapport with his family. It was the kind of bond Gilbert could only wish he had with his family.

"Ahh, mon petites!" A fifth voice decided to join their impromptu family reunion. The Frenchman slipped an arm around Arthur's waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and turned to glare at the chandelier, but Gilbert saw him press himself further into Francis's embrace anyway. "How are you enjoying the gallery display, Mister... um,"

"Beilschmidt," Gilbert supplied. "It's great. Matthew's been telling me everything."

"Magnifique!" Francis exclaimed. "The auction will be starting any moment now, so Arthur: with me. Boys: you may be excused if you wish." Alfred was gone before Gilbert could blink. Francis looked toward Matthew. "Merci for being such a good sport tonight, mon petite Matthieu. Et bonne nuit." Francis peeled himself from Arthur to press a kiss to his son's forehead. Matthew smiled at the touch.

"My pleasure, Papa. Good night. Gilbert, walk me home?"

Gilbert agreed, and thanked the Francis and Arthur. "Good night, lads," Arthur called as Francis began to drag him toward the stage.

Matthew tugged Gilbert away and soon they were headed out front of the gallery. Gilbert took the lead and got them through the glass doors into the night air. The temperature had dropped several degrees since Gilbert's arrival, but it was still comfortably warm outside. Matthew turned at the edge of the building and started up a set of stairs that led to a door a floor above the gallery. Gilbert followed Matthew up the stairs, and even inside to the surprisingly spacious apartment.

"Wanna sit down?" Matthew asked.

"I should probably get going," Gilbert said, regret lacing his tone. "I had a really great time tonight though," Gilbert told Matthew. "Thanks for inviting me."

Matthew smiled. "My pleasure. And I'll talk to you back here on Friday."

"On Friday," Gilbert agreed, backing toward the door. "I'll see you then."

"Bye Gilbert," Matthew said softly. He listened as the door clicked shut after Gilbert and Matthew finally let the dopiest of smiles cross his face as he slumped back against the couch, completely unaware of the fact that Gilbert was doing the same thing just outside the door.

* * *

_to be continued_

* * *

Translations from the French

Mon petites - essentially "my little ones"  
Magnifique - Magnificent  
Merci - Thank you  
Mon petite Matthieu - My little Matthew  
Et bonne nuit - And good night


	4. Chapter 4

_**Two chapters in as many days... sometimes miracles do happen. **_

_**-HC**_

* * *

It didn't take Matthew very long to realize his crucial mistake – Friday night was still five days away.

Monday slipped by quickly. Matthew began a new painting and went shopping with Flora.

Tuesday was pretty normal. Francis left on a business trip, promising to return in two days. Matthew thought of Gilbert all day as he worked on his painting.

Wednesday wasn't a very good day. Matthew had an argument with Arthur, and since Papa wasn't there to mediate, it lead to a second argument – this time with Alfred. Instead of spending the night in the living room while Alfred and Mitchie watched a movie, Matthew spent the evening crying in his room and wishing Gilbert was there to talk to.

Thursday was better, but Alfred seemed to be avoiding him in the morning. Mitchie came over as she did every Thursday. Matthew listened to her dance in the next room as he painted. Alfred came home at six and apologized for getting angry the previous night. Francis called at seven and informed Matthew he would not be home until Friday afternoon. He asked his son to inform the others, and pass on his love. Matthew told Arthur as soon as he got home, then retreated to his room for the rest of the night.

Friday dragged past agonizingly slow. In the morning, Matthew finished his painting – receiving praise from Flora and Mitchie both. They wanted to know what he was going to call it. Matthew didn't answer. In the afternoon, he helped Mitchie do the dishes and clean the house. Francis arrived home late in the afternoon, looking rather haggard but smiling about the results of his trip. Arthur offered to cook dinner so Francis could rest, but Francis wouldn't have it. When Arthur left the room, Francis accepted the heroism placed on his shoulders by his two nieces and his youngest son with grace, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Matthew escaped into his room to change for dinner. He'd been pretty antsy all day in anticipation for Gilbert's arrival. Heck, he'd been waiting for this all week! Mitchie noticed her cousin's unsettled behavior and offered to read to him, but Matthew declined and asked her to let him know when Gilbert arrived. He put his headphones in his ears and sat down on his bed, trying not to think about how the time was dragging past so slowly.

* * *

Gilbert, on the other hand, had been the victim of a rather hectic week.

Monday and Tuesday were filled with the usual – newspaper deadlines, submissions, and lots of redrafting. Gilbert's work days were typically very busy, and as soon as he got home he heated up some ramen, opened up his laptop, and wrote until his noodles were cold and his neck ached in protest.

Wednesday mornings were special. Gilbert's schedule was set strictly for afternoons in the office. While the mornings were officially supposed to be spent in his 'home office', he always met Eli for breakfast and a chat before heading in to work at noon. It didn't take long for Eli to notice a change in Gilbert. In fact, as soon as he stepped foot in the restaurant, she called him out on it.

"So... who is it?"

Gilbert played dumb as he dropped himself into their usual booth. "Who's who?"

Eli narrowed her brown eyes at Gilbert, sending him 'the look'. Gilbert knew this look quite well. It was her 'I know you know what I'm talking about so don't play stupid with me, Beilschmidt' look. "You're looking uncharacteristically radiant today," she declared, smiling knowingly at Gilbert. "You met someone." It wasn't a question.

Gilbert had to smile as an image of Matthew ran through his mind. "Kinda."

Eli leaned forward on her forearms, her brown hair brushing the tabletop. Still smiling. "Spill. Now."

Gilbert smiled, ducking his head a little. Eli raised one eyebrow and watched him carefully. She hadn't seen him this happy... well, ever, really. "It's not what you think. We're just friends."

"Mhm," Eli hummed, but she wasn't convinced. "Name?"

"His name is Matthew."

Eli's smile widened and Gilbert chuckled lowly. "Friends, remember?"

Eli rolled her eyes and sat back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. "Whatever. Tell me about him. How'd you meet, what's he like, and is he _cute_?"

"He's..." Gilbert trailed off, pulling a loud, put-off sigh from Eli, as the waitress came to their table with two coffees.

"What's it gonna be today, hon?" the waitress asked of Gilbert.

"Short stack. Side of bacon."

"Same," Eli said when the waitress turned toward her. "And a side of your extra special blueberry sauce?"

The waitress nodded, flashing them a smile. "Be right back."

As soon as the waitress had left, Eli whipped her head back toward Gilbert. "You were saying?"

Gilbert smiled at her. "His name is Matthew," he repeated. Eli just stared, waiting for him to go on. "I met him at the coffee shop on main last Saturday. He's twenty-three, and an artist, and an all around amazing guy. He's funny and nice and really great to just talk to."

"But is he _cute_?" Eli asked.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and the blush that coated his cheeks did not escape Eli's notice. "Yes."

Eli's ever widening smile grew just a little more. "_Really_ cute?"

"Goddammit," Gilbert muttered. "He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, E."

"You like him."

"Of course I do. I don't know how anyone could _not_ like him after just talking to him."

"Does he like you?"

Gilbert shrugged.

"Is he gay?"

Again, Gilbert shrugged.

Eli's brow furrowed. "You didn't ask?"

"I tend not to inquire after one's sexual preference unless... well... you know."

"So you're _not_ interested in this Matthew guy?"

"No," Gilbert said immediately. "I mean, yes, I am interested. But I didn't want to scare him away. He's knows I swing that way at least."

"Well that's something," Eli said. "But... how did you work _your_ sexuality into the conversation without finding out his?"

"We were talking about his parents."

Eli shook her head rapidly, not understanding Gilbert at the moment nor wanting to attempt to. "So when do I get to meet this kid?"

Gilbert just laughed. "Maybe sometime."

"Come on now, Gilbo. I'm your best friend! I need to meet this potential lover of yours."

"He's not a potential lover, E, he's just a friend I made this weekend!"

"You're in love with him after just one meeting," Eli stated.

"Two."

"Two?"

"Yeah. I went to his dad's art gallery gala Sunday night."

"...you already had a fricking DATE?"

"It wasn't a date."

"You were his date."

"It was not a date!"

"You were his _escort_," Eli said in a mockingly snooty tone. "And wait... the art gallery on the other end of town?"

Gilbert nodded.

"You like Francis Freaking Bonnefoy's son!?" Eli reached across the table and grabbed Gilbert's shirt collar. "That kid is a player. He's also the straightest straight guy you will ever meet. Do not get any closer."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Wrong son."

Eli released Gilbert and sat back with a confused look on her face. "He has two?"

Gilbert nodded. "Mattie's the kind of kid who doesn't like the spotlight much. He lets his brother hog all the attention. Lord knows Alfred is the last person who needs it, though," Gilbert added.

Eli raised one eyebrow. "So you met his family."

Gilbert sighed heavily. "Eli..."

Eli held up both her hands in a show of surrender. "Fine. You're just friends. Who am I to read into it? You know, you're only my closest friend in the whole world and I know you better than anyone else, and if anyone can tell you're in love with this Matthew kid, I can, but you know. Whatever. You're just friends."

Gilbert snorted. "You're crazy," he told her.

Eli smiled serenely. "I know."

The rest of their breakfast went fairly smoothly. Eli told Gilbert about her week and did her level best not to bring up Matthew every twelve seconds. Which still meant she asked Gilbert about him six more time over the course of their breakfast, but Gilbert knew it was still an impressive act of restraint on her part. After breakfast, Gilbert clocked in at work, sat down at his desk, and pretended to be productive the rest of the work day.

Thursday was another busy day and Gilbert was glad. The quicker Thursday was over, the faster Friday got there. And the faster Friday got there, the sooner Gilbert would get to see Matthew again. And believe him when he said he could not _wait_ to see Matthew again.

Gilbert was out of the office as soon as five o'clock hit, and then he was off to his apartment for a quick shower – to get the smell of newsprint off his person – and to change clothes. He picked out his favorite shirt: a soft cotton v-neck in his favorite color – Prussian blue. He also tugged on a clean pair of jeans and his black Chucks. He ran a comb through his towel dried hair, then ran a hand through it to mess it up slightly. Gilbert grabbed his keys, his wallet, and the promised chapter of his novel before he headed out the door. It had taken Gilbert twelve minutes to walk there Sunday night. He turned it into eight tonight.

He arrived at the apartment above the gallery and knocked on the door. Taking a step back and a deep breath to calm his nerves, Gilbert waited for someone to answer. It didn't take long before Mitchie appeared at the door, playing with one of her red-trimmed pigtails. She smiled at him and stepped back, ushering him inside. "Welcome. Glad you could make it."

"Sure thing," Gilbert said, stepping inside and feeling rather at a loss when Matthew was not eminently visible.

Mitchie smiled at him anyway. "Mattie's in his room, so you can go on and say hi. I think he had his iPod on, or he would have heard you and been out here by now. It's that door right there," she said, pointing. "Tell Mattie that Francis said dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," Gilbert said with a smile before turning to head for Matthew's room.

* * *

_**In case in wasn't apparent, Eli is short for Elizaveta - AKA Hungary. A touch of platonic PruHun makes my world go round. Romantic PruHun does that too, but it's not really my forte in writing.**_

_**-HC**_

* * *

_to be continued_


	5. Chapter 5

Gilbert knocked on Matthew's bedroom door before remembering that he probably had his iPod on and wouldn't be able to hear him. He carefully opened the door and stepped inside the fairly spacious and very tidy room.

The first thing Gilbert noticed was Matthew, curled up sideways on his bed. Gilbert couldn't see the earbuds, but he could see the wires trailing from somewhere beneath Mattie's hair down to the iPod laying beside him. Matthew's eyes were closed and his breathing was steady. Gilbert was fairly certain he was asleep.

Gilbert smiled and crept a little closer. _My god he is so adorable_. Gilbert paused beside the bed. He didn't want to scare Matthew with his sudden presence, but he wanted to wake him up. Not that he would have minded just watching Matthew sleep because _god_ it was the cutest thing Gilbert had ever seen in his life. Gilbert thought it might be just a little bit creepy, though, if he just stood there watching Matthew sleep. Besides, dinner was almost ready. Gilbert decided to chance it.

"Hey Matthew," he said softly, reaching out a gentle hand to touch Matthew's arm. "Wake up, Birdie."

Matthew stirred slightly and burrowed his face into the quilt on his bed. Gilbert smiled. "Raus aus den federn, Vögelchen!"

Matthew's nose twitched a little and he stirred again, brushing his hair from his face and removing an earbud in the process. "Gilbert?" Matthew's voice was husky from sleep.

"It's me," Gilbert said, wondering if Matthew would be able to hear the grin he couldn't keep off his face.

"When did you get here?" Matthew asked, pushing himself off the bed into a sitting position. He rolled his neck and pushed some of his hair behind one ear.

"Just a few minutes ago. Mitchie let me in."

"Oh good" Matthew scrubbed a hand against his face and then patted the bed beside him. "You can sit, if you like. It smells like dinner's almost done. Lemon and sage chicken," Matthew added, removing the second earbud from his ear.

"What were you listening to?" Gilbert asked.

Matthew shrugged. "The Fray. But then I fell asleep."

Gilbert smiled.

"Matthew! Gilbert!" Gilbert barely heard the voice calling from somewhere else in the apartment, but Matthew visibly perked at the sound. "Coming Dad!" Matthew's hand stretched out across the bed covers until it found Gilbert's, resting between them. Their fingers linked easily, and Gilbert said nothing – but he liked the feeling of Matthew's hand in his. "That'll be dinner," Matthew told Gilbert as he rose from the bed, pulling Gilbert with him.

Gilbert followed Matthew as he made his way out of the bedroom and into the main part of the apartment. One of his hands brushed against the wall, feeling his way toward where he was going. The other remained entwined with Gilbert's.

As Gilbert obediently followed the blind man, he caught glimpses of the apartment. A few art pieces hung on the walls. The woodworking was trimmed in a dark mahogany. The whole place was set in warm tones. It felt rich and comfortable. Like a home. Gilbert kept his attention on the back of a certain blond head, though, and quickly found himself in the open dining room on the far side of the kitchen.

Arthur was there, setting a pitcher of ice water on the table. Flora was just taking her seat at the table. Arthur smiled gently when he caught sight of Matthew and Gilbert. "Matthew-lad. I see your guest has come. Welcome, Gilbert."

"Thanks," he said absently, still watching Matthew.

"Is there an extra seat for Gilbert, Dad?" Matthew asked.

"There is. It's to the left of yours." Arthur watched intently as Matthew ran his hand over the backs of the chairs, counting his way to his usual seat. He stopped at two, then found the third. He smiled. "This one's yours, Gilbert," Matthew stated, patting the high-backed chair with a satisfied smile.

"Thanks," Gilbert repeated, more sincerely this time. He pulled out Matthew's chair and waited for the man to sit before slipping into the chair beside him. He noticed Arthur and Flora both watching them and tried not to blush.

"Hey Artie, hey Flor, hey Mattie," said Alfred, striding into the dining room and plopping down in the seat beside Flora, across from Matthew. He glanced at Gilbert. "Hey Mattie's boyfriend."

Gilbert made a choking noise and Matthew flushed. "Alfred!" Matthew said sharply. Alfred rolled his eyes and slouched over the table. Flora leaned over to him and whispered something. Alfred didn't appear to react.

Mitchie and Francis came in together, each carrying a large dish of something to add to those already on the table. Mitchie slipped into the seat on the other side of Matthew, while Francis sat at the head of the table. Arthur had taken his place at the foot just before Alfred's arrival.

"Ahh!" Francis sighed with a smile. "We're all here. Wonderful. Hello, Gilbert."

"Hey," Gilbert said with a little wave. He was feeling kind of uncomfortable, but then he felt Matthew's hand squeeze around his where they were still joined beneath the table, and he tried his best to calm down. Matthew released him as the dishes began to be passed around the table and everyone filled their plates with Francis's wonderful smelling cooking.

"Alfred," Francis sighed at length, glancing over at his older son. "Can you please attempt to act like a civilized adult for just a few minutes?"

Alfred raised one eyebrow and rolled his eyes. Gilbert was thinking he'd never left the rebellious-eyerolling teenager phase. Then he proceeded to finish chewing with his mouth shut and Francis looked appeased.

"So Gilbert, tell us," Arthur began. "What do you do?"

"I'm a writer," Gilbert said. "I work for the newspaper... freelance for some magazines."

"Ahh!" Arthur smiled and leaned forward slightly. "Which magazines? I work for Kirkland Press, Incorporated."

Alfred snorted loudly, and both his parents cast him a disapproving look.

"Um...," Gilbert looked back at Arthur to answer the question. "I've done articles for lots of 'zines. I can't remember. I'm sure I've done work for KPI before, they're huge."

"What sorts of articles do you write?" Francis asked.

"Fluff pieces for the papers... some interview type stuff. I tried my hand at an investigative report. Didn't turn out so well. I'm better at the creative pieces."

"Do you have any original works? Fiction, novels, or the like?"

Gilbert shook his head a little. "I have something I'm working on... nowhere near finished. A book. But it isn't much."

"Good for you," Francis said.

"Fantastic, lad. Alfred!" Arthur cut off sharply. "Do you have a problem tonight, young man?"

"Nooooooo..."

"Then I suggest you sit up, chew with your mouth closed, and finish your dinner, instead of making faces and rude remarks."

Alfred straightened, but looked down into his plate. Arthur stared hard for another minute before turning back to his own dinner.

"How was your week, Gilbert?" Matthew asked quietly. Gilbert wondered how he liked it when his family fought like that.

"It was good. Busy."

"Did you do anything interesting?"

"Had breakfast with Eli on Wednesday. That's always interesting," Gilbert smirked.

Matthew smiled. "How is Eli?"

"Great. As usual."

Matthew nodded and turned back to his dinner. Gilbert stayed pretty quiet at Francis and Arthur took turns asking Mitchie and Flora how their days were, even extending to ask Alfred, but the blond just shrugged and muttered something indifferent. Francis asked Matthew how his painting was coming, and Matthew told his father he'd finished. "I'll have to take a look after dinner, mon Matthieu!"

Finally, after everyone was finished and Alfred had fled the table, Matthew asked if he and Gilbert could be excused, and the two escaped back to Matthew's room.

"Did you bring the chapter?" Matthew asked once they had both made themselves comfortable. Matthew was stretched out across his bed, feet stuck in the pillows, propping himself up on one elbow. Gilbert was sitting on the floor, feet stretched across the floor and back resting up against Matthew's bed, his head lolled back so he could see Matthew in part.

"Yeah, I brought it. Took me all week to decide which part to print for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I still think it sucks, but I promised I'd bring it."

Matthew smiled. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Just don't judge too hard," Gilbert replied with a smirk.

"I won't," Matthew promised. "Besides. I'll bet it's really good."

Gilbert hummed noncommittally and dug the printed pages out of his back pocket.

"Tell me about it first. What's your book about?"

"It's a love story," Gilbert told him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. It's a straight love story – so I'm really using my imagination here," Gilbert joke. Matthew laughed softly and turned to lay flat on his back.

"Tell me more."

"He's a spy – an assassin, actually. She's... well, she's not his target. Her sister is his target. But he gets close. It's his cover. He gets close to her because getting too close to the target is cause for suspicion. He ends up falling in love. He can't go through with it. His boss finds out, sends someone else to do the deed. He saves both girls in the end."

"Sounds intriguing."

Gilbert shrugged. "I thought so."

"I'll bet it's great. So what part did you bring to read to me?"

"It's one of the scenes between the two leads. Their names are John and Dana." Gilbert cleared his throat and found the top of the page.

* * *

"That's great!" Matthew exclaimed when Gilbert had finished. "How can you think it's boring?"

"Well, _I_ don't know. I've been writing this thing for so long, how am I supposed to be objective and all that crap when I know everything that's happened, will happen, almost happened, shouldn't have happened and was deleted, and the name of every girl John has dated since preschool?!"

Gilbert turned around, kneeling beside the bed, facing Matthew as the blond chuckled. "Well, I can be objective, and I'm telling you – once you finish it, you _need_ to send it in. As soon as possible. And even before you send it in, you come read me the rest of that because I want to know what happens!"

Gilbert laughed softly, still a little surprised at how strong Matthew's reaction had been. "I think I can manage that last part at least."

"Good. But you should really try and get it published. I could talk to my Dad-"

"No," Gilbert interrupted. "No, I won't ask you to do that."

"Well, okay. But... even without my Dad, it will happen. I know it. It's that good, Gil."

"Thanks, Birdie," Gilbert murmured. "Means a lot."

"Thanks for reading it to me," Matthew replied.

"Eli's the only one who usually reads it. When I let her, that is."

Matthew's lips quirked up into a smile. "Thanks for trusting me to listen."

"No problem whatsoever."

* * *

_Raus aus den federn, Vögelchen! – Rise and shine little bird/ rise and shine Birdie_

* * *

_**Author note is a little more lengthy than I usually make this chapter... I just need to thank everyone for being so amazing and encouraging. Looks like you all loved Eli last chapter!**_

_**I'd also like to thank all of you for the crazy amount of good mojo you're laying down on this story. I've gained 44 new followers on this fic since my last update! THAT'S INSANE!**_

_**Also, some fanart based on this fic crossed my radar and I'd like to give a giant shout-out to pyromaniacqueen and swiggitysag-gutentag on tumblr for being amazing and drawing parts of my fic. If you want to see them [and trust me, you want to see them. ;)] the links can be found on my profile.  
**_

_**And as today is Canada Day, I've been celebrating my lovely Canada all the day long! I was going to post my new oneshot to celebrate, but it isn't quite ready yet. So please accept this chapter containing my darling Canada in lieu of LietCan fluffyness.**_

_**One last thing... Gilbert's novel...? Exists. Except it's not straight, it's not a novel, it's not written by Gilbert, and it's actually stolen from another author on this website (I personally know them so they won't kill me) I changed the names from the Hetalia OTP fanfic it is to a sort of nod to Homestuck. Don't fucking ask me why Dave is Dana. It's two hours after the time which I should have gone to bed and I'm high on maple syrup and root beer and hairspray.**_

_**So that's it, guys. Thank you SO much. If you have recommended this fic, you have absolutely no idea how much I appreciate it.**_

_**Love,**_  
_**Hipster Canada**_


	6. Chapter 6

Gilbert and Matthew kept up their odd relationship for the next several weeks. They would chat on the phone most evenings, and usually about once or twice a week, meet for coffee or a walk in the park.

Gilbert never tired of Matthew's company, and Matthew was practically all he thought about, talked about, dreamed about. Gilbert had found a new muse in his coffee shop angel. He'd found something worth getting up in the morning for. He had literally become Gilbert's reason to carry on, and to keep writing. Bits of Matthew turned up in every character and Gilbert could only see them enhanced for the changes. He wouldn't readily admit it, but he was very much infatuated with Matthew. In such a short time, Matthew had become his best friend and someone he depended on. He was the first thought on Gilbert's mind when he woke up, and the last when he went to sleep. It wasn't uncommon for Matthew to enter Gilbert's dreams, either – a fact that Gilbert had let slip during his breakfast with Eli this morning.

Eli swatted him with the back of her hand.

"Let's have dinner tonight."

"Wha-?"

"Dinner. My place. You, me, Bella, and Matthew. I'm dying to meet him."

"I don't know, E..."

"Gilbert, come on! It's been six weeks! Every Wednesday you come in here with a new story about something you did with Matthew and the same stupid grin on your face! Don't tell me you're afraid of me meeting him or something, because that's bull."

"E-"

"BULL, Gilbert."

"I just... don't want him to think that... well you and Bell are dating now, and-"

"Friends can't have dinner with friends of their friends?" Eli interrupted with a scoff. "Something tells me Matthew will be just fine with it."

"But you're bringing your girlfriend."

Eli rolled her eyes. "I like Bella. You like Matthew. One of us is dating the person we like. So what?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment before grumbling. "Fine. I'll talk to Matthew."

Eli smiled and folded her arms on the table and stared at Gilbert. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to call him?"

"Now?"

Eli rolled her eyes. "Yes. Now. Call him."

Gilbert scoffed and arched his back to dig his phone out of his jeans pocket. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Matthew's number, then held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Birdie, it's Gil."

"Hey Gilbert," Matthew said. "What's up?"

"I'm having breakfast with E and she wants us to come over for dinner tonight."

"Dinner? Tonight?"

"Yeah. You busy?"

"No, not at all. What time?"

"I dunno."

"Well can you ask?"

"Matt wants to know what time," Gilbert said to Eli. She rolled her eyes and snatched the phone from Gilbert.

"Matthew? This is Eli."

"Oh, hello."

"So for dinner tonight, I was thinking we'd eat around six."

"All right. Can I help at all?"

"You any good in the kitchen?"

Matthew chuckled. "As long as I know exactly what I'm doing."

Eli's nose crinkled in a smile aimed at Gilbert. He's adorable, she mouthed silently. "I can make that happen. You don't mind coming early to help me cook? Gilbert's useless in the kitchen, but I can have him pick you up."

Matthew laughed again. "I don't mind at all."

"All right. Be at my place at five, then. Gilbert should be around at ten 'til to pick you up. I look forward to meeting you, Matthew."

"Likewise."

Eli ended the call and handed Gilbert back his phone. "What just happened?" Gilbert asked.

"I made plans with your boyfriend."

"Friend."

"Pick him up at four fifty," Eli informed Gilbert. "You can watch ESPN while we cook."

"You didn't tell him Bella was coming."

"It wasn't necessary information," Eli told him. "It isn't like he's a homophobe, Gilbo. You're looking too far into this. Just shut up and finish your bacon, Tighty-Whitey."

* * *

Gilbert picked Matthew up at exactly ten minutes to five. The blond was brimming with excitement and Gilbert could tell he was anxious to make an impression. "Your socks match," Gilbert teased with a smile.

"I had Mitchie help me," Matthew said.

"Mitchie has pretty good taste," Gilbert remarked, sincerely this time. Matthew wore a pale green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of darkly colored jeans, and a pair of leather Docs. "You look great." In fact, Gilbert wished he'd put in a little more effort so he wouldn't look like a slob next to Matthew in his favorite AC/DC t-shirt and worn blue jeans. Then he remembered Matthew couldn't see, and Eli wouldn't care.

"Thanks," Matthew smiled. "I'll take your word for it. So, it's just going to be you, me, and Eli?"

"Eli's girlfriend Bella will be there," Gilbert said hesitantly, flipping on his blinker for a left turn.

"Oh!" Matthew smiled broadly. "How fun! You didn't tell me Eli had a girlfriend."

"They've only been going out officially for two weeks. It just... didn't come up."

Matthew was still smiling. "Well that's great. This is going to be so fun. I'm really excited."

"Good," Gilbert said, a smile leeching it's way on to his face. Matthew's smiles were contagious. "I... I wasn't sure what you'd say when you found out Bella was coming."

"What did you think I'd say?" asked Matthew, puzzled.

"I... I didn't know if you'd think it was supposed to be... like a double date or something," Gilbert confessed, a deep pink flush coating his face. "Because it's not. Because we're not dating." Wish we were, Gilbert added silently, flushing deeper at the unbidden desire.

Matthew shook his head. "I understand," he said, taking an extra effort to keep his voice upbeat so Gilbert wouldn't notice a change. "It's just dinner with friends." Matthew kicked up his smile a notch. "Nothing wrong with that."

Gilbert nodded, staring out the windshield intently. He'd known Matthew would say that. If he was being honest with himself, the only reason he'd thought Matthew would object or think it was supposed to be a date was because he wanted Matthew to say something. He wanted Matthew to say something so he could know how Matthew would react to implications of their being a couple. He wanted to ask Matthew out, but he was so afraid of Matthew saying no. He didn't want Matthew to be _just_ his best friend. He wanted him to be his _boyfriend_. He wanted it so bad he could taste it.

Why did he have to be such a chicken? Why couldn't he just talk to Matthew about... taking their relationship to the next level? They talked about everything else under the sun! Why couldn't they talk about them?

_Because I don't want to scare away the best friend I've ever made by asking him to be my boyfriend_, Gilbert reminded himself. He needed someone else to bring it up. He was too afraid. If someone else brought it up, he could judge Matthew's reaction and... deny anything if Matthew seemed opposed to the idea. Suddenly Gilbert remembered who they were dining with tonight and he knew he wouldn't need to ask Matthew about their relationship. They would be teased and prodded with enough implications from Eli and Bell to do the trick for sure. It might be just the thing Gilbert needed to stop obsessing over this.

"And we're here," Gilbert announced, pulling into a parking space in front of Eli and Bella's apartment complex. _Here goes nothing._

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry for the wait on this... I had a friend who needed to do something and a little withdrawal was in order. All requirements have been fulfilled and I should get back to my semi-regular posting schedule. Thank you for your awesome patience!_**

_**Love,**_  
_**Hipster Canada**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I apologize for a lot of this chapter being me just writing food porn. I love cooking and asdfghjkl cooking. I love food and I love people bonding over food. I do apologize if you find it boring. Now I need to go find someone to cook with me..._

_-H.C._

* * *

Gilbert rapped his knuckled three times against the door of Eli and Bella's apartment. It only took a moment before it opened, revealing a slightly disheveled and grinning brunette. "Hey! Come on in." Eli stepped back, allowing Gilbert to steer Matthew inside. Her eyes raked Matthew, scanning him up and down. Gilbert noticed her smile widen ever-so-slightly as she wiped her hands on the dish towel she held. "You must be the infamous Matthew. I have heard _so_ much about you. Really... you're all Gilbert talks about anymore." Eli caught Matthew's hand in her own and shook it firmly. "I'm Eli."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Matthew said with a smile. Eli glanced at Gilbert, her eyes wide with adoration. _So cute!_ she mouthed at Gilbert, who just rolled his eyes.

"So, Matthew. You ready to get your hands dirty?"

"Are you ready to be patient with me?" Matthew asked, still smiling.

Eli laughed a little. "Absolutely." Eli looked at Gilbert and jerked her head toward the television mounted on the wall. "Remote's on the coffee table. Knock yourself out."

"I'll help Matthew," Gilbert said, but Eli shook her head firmly.

"We got this, Gil. You're a cocaine-addicted monkey in the kitchen." Matthew giggled softly as Eli took his arm. "Stay out of our hair. Bell should be home any time. This way, Matthew."

"Whatever!" Gilbert called after them, plopping down on the couch and flipping on the television.

Eli led Matthew to the sink and let him wash his hands, handing him a clean towel to dry them off when he'd finished. "What are we making?"

"Risotto Primavera," Eli told him.

"Yum. What do you want me to do?" Matthew asked.

"What are you good at?"

"Anything. My Papa is French. He's had me helping him in the kitchen since I was old enough to grate cheese." Matthew held up his calloused and somewhat scarred fingers. "Battle scars. All very old now. I like to think I'm rather experienced."

Eli giggled. _My god, Gilbert, don't let this one get away,_ she thought. "Mind helping me cut the vegetables?" Eli asked. "I peeled the carrots. We need to dice everything."

"What's going in?" Matthew asked.

"You tell me," Eli teased. She guided Matthew's hands to the vegetables she had piled on the counter just a few minutes before. She watched as he grazed his fingertips across the piles.

"Carrots, onions, shallots, peas, squash..." Matthew hesitated on the white and green florets before he bend over just slightly and inhaled. "Broccoli _and_ cauliflower."

"Very astute observational skills, Mister Williams," Eli said, clapping a few times for Matthew. "Here's the cutting board," she said, placing his left hand on the aforementioned object. She carefully placed his right hand atop the triangular knife beside the board. "And the knife. Don't cut yourself."

Matthew smiled. "Noted. You said dice it all?"

"Yup. Well, except the peas, but I'm going to finish de-pod-ing them before I get started. Will you do the carrots and onion first?"

Matthew quickly, carefully, determined the size of the knife by touch before picking it up and starting in on the onion. In the time it took Eli to de-pod the remaining 1/3 cup of peas, Matthew had finished the onion and was almost through with the carrots. Eli scraped the peas into a bowl and left the pods in the basket Bella had brought them in from the garden in. "Doesn't fresh produce smell amazing?" Eli asked, pulling her big, ceramic dutch-oven onto the stove and turning the heat on somewhere between low and medium before tossing in a pat of butter.

"Mhm," Matthew hummed in agreement. "Do you have a garden?"

"My girlfriend does," Eli said. "Well, she grows herbs here but she helps keep care of this big garden at her cousin's house," Eli chuckled. "And she and Toni share the vegetables. The carrots, peas, and squash all came from their garden. As well as the tomatoes I'm going to throw in the salad."

"How nice."

"Yeah, they enjoy it a lot. You got those carrots ready?" Eli asked. The pot was heated and the melted butter was sizzling inside.

"Yeah," Matthew said, taking a step to the side to allow Eli access to the diced vegetables.

"Not bad, Matthew," Eli smiled as she pushed the slightly haphazard piles of carrots and onions off the cutting board into a small bowl, which she then dumped into the waiting dutch oven. "Your dad must be a really good teacher."

Matthew beamed as he went back to breaking down the broccoli florets. "He is."

Eli stirred the carrots and onions into the hot melted butter for a minute before crossing back over toward Matthew to scoop up the cauliflower he'd finished. In only a few minutes she was adding the cauliflower to the cooking vegetables, as well as the broccoli and the diced squash. She added a bit of salt, but didn't let them cook very long before scooping it out onto a plate to rest while she made the risotto. Eli set Matthew to making the salad as she combined the rice, some hot chicken broth, and a healthy dose of leftover Pinot Grigio. The risotto was a bit of a lengthy process of waiting, adding more liquid every five minutes or so, and then waiting some more, so she smirked a little at the back of Matthew's head. "So. Matthew."

"So Eli," Matthew came back.

"What do you think of Gilbert?" she asked, coming over to lean on the counter beside Matthew and snatch a wedge of tomato from the top of the salad.

"He's great. We've become really good friends."

"Friends," Eli echoed, looking skeptically at Matthew. She thought Matthew was an adorable kid, but it was a little hard not having her very distinct facial expression work on him. She'd been practicing those for a long time!

"Friends," Matthew repeated.

"And in the time you've been friends..." Eli paused, waving her fingers in the air, looking for the right words. "You never... thought about being more?"

"I've thought about it," Matthew said calmly.

"And?" Eli prompted when he failed to continue.

"And I've thought about it. That's it."

Eli groaned, pulling a smile from Matthew. She shook her head, studying Matthew's handsome face. "How did Gilbert ever get so lucky to land a guy like you?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that."

"I mean," Eli said, hoisting herself up onto the counter, her long legs dangling over the edge. "Gil's a great guy, but he's hardly a people person. He..." Eli trailed off, staring out into the living room where she could see the back of Gilbert's head as he watched an old episode of Star Trek. "I just think you're good for him. You know? He doesn't get out much. Until he met you, I'm pretty sure he only had one friend."

Matthew was quiet, and Eli brought her gaze back to study him again. "I think I understand," Matthew said finally, his voice very quiet. "Before I met Gil, I only had one friend, too. I... I don't really think she counts, though."

Eli tilted her head. "Oh?"

Matthew quickly shook his head. "Never mind. The salad's done."

"The risotto will be about fifteen more minutes, I think. I thought Bella would have been home by now. I'm gonna give her a call."

"Need me to do anything else?"

"Grate some parmesan?"

"Where is it?"

"Hey Gil!" Eli called. Gilbert's head twisted around to look into the kitchen. "Grab the parmesan cheese and the grater for Matthew while I find out Bella's ETA? And stir my rice but _don't add anything_, Gilbert."

Gilbert leaped off the couch and headed for the fridge while Eli headed off to another room with her cell phone. He pulled a partial block of parmesan cheese from the fridge and the cheese grater from a drawer and placed them in front of Matthew. "Here you go, Birdie."

"Thank you, Gilbert."

Gilbert moved to stir the risotto. "So what do you think of Eli?"

"She's really nice. I can see why you like her."

"She's bat-shit-crazy, but she's practically family so I keep her around."

Matthew laughed. "I like her."

"But not as much as you like me, right?"

Matthew smiled down at the slowly growing pile of cheese he was grating, but said nothing. Gilbert put down the spoon and moved closer. "Birdie? You like me better than E, right?"

"I don't play favorites, Gilbert," Matthew teased.

"Come on, just say it. She won't get mad. Say it."

"Say what?"

"Say I'm your favorite."

"My favorite what?"

"Just your favorite! Favorite anything!"

"Favorite ADHD patient? Between you and my brother, I'd have to choose..."

Gilbert playfully punched Matthew in the arm. "Shut up. I'm loads better than your brother."

"Sure you are."

"My god, do you two always flirt like this?"

Gilbert spun on his heel, and Matthew turned in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Gilbert shook his head at the blonde standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Damn, Bell, way to sneak up on a person. What are you in night school for, ninja training?"

"Business consulting," Bella corrected. "And it's nice to see you too, Gil. Quick, introduce me. Never mind, I'll do it myself. Hi, I'm Bella."

"Matthew," the blond supplied.

"Fantastic to meet you. Gilbert doesn't shut his pie hole about you. You're a lot cuter than Gilbert told us."

"Bell! You have a girlfriend."

"It was just an observation Gil, jeez." Bell winked one green eye at Gilbert. "It's not like Matthew's taken or anything, and I was just stating the obvious."

"You never say I'm cute."

"I speak truth, Gil. Doesn't mean it's always sunshine and lollipops. I'm gonna go change. E in the bedroom?"

"Yes, but don't go eating her face off. Tell her this goop is burning and I can't do anything to it."

Matthew snorted and held out his hand toward the sound of Gilbert's voice. "Give me your arm. Does Eli have a measuring cup or a ladle sitting near the stove?"

"This cup with lines on it?"

"Yeah. Dip about a cup or so of the liquid on the back stove into the measuring cup, and pour it in the pot with the rice."

Gilbert obeyed. "Now stir it again," Matthew commanded.

"She's not gonna kill me for this?"

"Hope not. I do enjoy your company a little more than I let on."

Gilbert grinned and wrapped an arm around Matthew's shoulders. "Aww Birdie. You do care."

A chorus of 'Aww's sounded from behind. Gilbert glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Bell and Eli. "You two have horrible timing. Matthew told me how to keep your shit from burning."

"Don't you dare badmouth my risotto, Gilbert Fritz Beilschmidt," Eli said, pointing harshly at Gil. Gilbert put his hands in the air and backed away from the stove.

"Your middle name is Fritz?" Matthew asked.

"Yours is Henry!" Gilbert came back.

"Henri," Matthew corrected.

"Whatever. Middle names shouldn't be used by friends. SportsCenter is on."

Eli and Bella snickered as Gilbert retreated to the living room.

* * *

_To be continued very soon_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Have I mentioned lately how this was only supposed to be a oneshot? And it wouldn't have even been a oneshot if my art skills extended beyond stick figures... _

_Anyway... thank you all for your kindness in reviews~ I'll probably end up doing something special for the 100th reviewer._

_H.C._

* * *

In hardly any time at all, Bella had set the table and Eli had finished the risotto. Eli called Gil to the table as she led Matthew to the small, square table in their little dining room and sat him down before dishing out risotto and the tossed salad Matthew had made on everyone's plates. Bella filled the wine glasses and brought a pitcher of ice water to the table.

Gilbert watched as Matthew felt around to find out where everything was, making sure he didn't knock over his wine glass or accidentally touch the candles decorating the table. Eli and Bell sat down: Eli to Matthew's left, and Bella to hers.

As they began to eat, Eli turned the conversation toward Matthew so they could get to know their guest a little more. "So Matthew, tell us about yourself."

"Um. Okay, sure. I, um... I still live at home with my parents, but so does my brother. I don't have a job, but I help my Papa out in his art gallery a lot."

"The art gallery across town?" Bella asked. Matthew nodded. "Oh, that's so cool! The paintings in there are amazing. I love walking past there. It's a gorgeous gallery. Your dad owns it?"

Matthew nodded again. "And he paints, too. His paintings aren't displayed there... he just keeps them in the back room with the ones that aren't on display at the time. He's sold quite a few. I'm told he's very good."

"I'm sure," Eli smiled. "And Gilbert said your other dad is a... an editor?"

"Yes. He owns his own publishing company."

"Your dads sound really cool," Bella said.

"They're not bad," Matthew said with a small grin.

"All righty. Well, Bell here goes to school for business consulting-"

"Ninja training," Gilbert coughed.

Bella raised one eyebrow at the albino. "Well even if that were true, I'd never give it to you straight."

"Ew, Bell. That's nasty. Neither of us would enjoy that, and I think your girlfriend would get jealous."

"Matthew, smack him for me," Eli commanded. When he did not obey, Bella filled in the order.

"You used to like getting it straight," Eli commented. "Let's do a head count. How many girlfriends have you had?"

"It might be easier to count the girls he _hasn't_ hit on," Bell commented.

"But way less fun to recall," Eli pointed out. "Besides, I love a good challenge."

* * *

"And there was this one time in middle school-"

"Oh. My. _God_." Gilbert buried his face in his hands. "Elizabeth. Shut your damn mouth already."

Eli smirked at Gilbert and turned back to Matthew. "He tried to talk our History teacher into going out with him."

"There was only a fifteen year age gap," Gilbert muttered, picking at his risotto. "She was hot."

"My, my, Gilbert," Matthew began, a teasing tone in his voice. "You told me you were a playboy, but I had no idea how far back it went."

"Don't believe a word she says, Matthew. She's exaggerating."

"Oh honey. With you, the one hundred percent truth seems too exaggerated to be real."

"Are you done embarrassing me yet?"

"Not quite," Bella teased with a laugh.

"Remember his last girlfriend, Bell?"

Bella let out a tinkling laugh that made Matthew smile just from hearing it. "Oh my god. The knitter, right?"

Eli let out a guffaw and took a sip of wine to calm herself down. Even Gilbert chuckled at the mention of this one. "Who was the knitter?" Matthew asked.

"She made him swear off boobs forever," Eli said.

"Hey," Gilbert interrupted. "Just because she was the last girl I dated doesn't mean she _caused_ my gay. I was gay long before I hooked up with her. She was nice."

"She _was_ nice," Bella agreed.

"She knitted him seven sweaters, five scarves, three hats, two pairs of mittens, and a blanket in the time they were going out."

"We went out for three months," Gilbert said. "May, June, and July."

"Yikes," Matthew said on a laugh.

"She really was a nice girl," Gilbert admitted. "But I was still pretty fresh out of rehab and I was literally sweating to death dating her." Gilbert sipped his wine before finishing with "I broke up with her and decided that buttsex was the only sex for me. I went out and bought an 'I heart Dick' t-shirt the next day. I can't wear it to work, though. My editor Richard thought it was inappropriate."

"Wow, vulgar much, Gil?" Bella asked.

"Eli said 'boobs' like two minutes ago and nothing happened."

"There's nothing wrong with boobs," Eli defended, leaning over to wrap a protective arm around her girlfriend. "Right, Bella? There's nothing wrong with boobs."

Matthew was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand, but everyone noticed and joined in.

"C'mon, girls, gimme a break. I'm dying here," Gil begged.

Eli sighed heavily and looked at Bella. "What do you think?" she asked the blonde.

"I think it's time for a new subject," Bella agreed with a forlorn nod. Both females immediately looked directly at Matthew as he slowly brought his wine glass to his mouth.

"So Matthew," Eli began. "What do _you_ think is better? Dick or boobs?"

Matthew nearly spewed the contents of his mouth across the table. Eli let her head tip back with silent laughter at the sight of his dark red cheeks. Gilbert was giving Eli the "OH MY GOD YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT" look. Bella handed Matthew a napkin as she held her own to her mouth. "You okay Matt?" Eli asked, sounding breathless from laughter.

"Fine," Matthew said on a slight cough. "I wasn't expecting quite such a quick turnaround on that question. I don't have much experience with either," he told them. "S-so... yeah."

"So you don't have a preference?" Eli asked shamelessly, letting her gaze wander casually across the table to Gilbert.

Matthew shrugged. "I don't know."

"So if one of the people sitting at this table asked you out, would you say yes?"

Matthew nodded. Bella raised her eyebrows.

"The person of singularly unattached status?" Eli pressed.

"OKAY. WOW, E. WOW," Gilbert shouted. "Prying much? God. Do you know no bounds? You know, I can deal with your nosiness one on one but I'm not gonna let you do this to Matthew. You just met him, for fuck's sake."

"Gilbert, it's okay," Matthew said quietly.

"No, Matt. It's not. You know why? Because she knows I like you and she knows I'm too awkwardly shy where you're involved to do anything about it, so she's trying to play matchmaker. You can just stop, E. Okay? Stop. I'll ask Matthew out when I'm damn good and ready, so just lay off."

There was a moment of complete and utter silence in which Gilbert was mentally dying inside for saying all of that out loud and Eli and Bella were silently regretting having pushed it so far before Matthew cleared his throat. "Um, Gilbert?"

"... yeah Mattie?"

"I was gonna tell her yes."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: After eight slightly crazed reviews and a sudden glomping in the middle of the kitchen via my sister, I realized my approach to the last chapter was a lot more chill than everyone else's responses. So I cranked this out by ten pm and fell into bed. I apologize in advance... this chapter is _**not**_ what you are hoping it is. C'est la vie.  
_

_P.S. if this chapter IS what you were hoping for, you're a weird, sort of sadistic little fuck. Sorry._

_H.C._

* * *

Gilbert woke up with the sun streaming in through the blinds he had never shut the night before. He groaned and stuffed his head under his pillow. A headache brought on by too much alcohol and a late night the previous evening. _I must be getting old. I'm not very flexible anymore._

It was definitely the alcohol. It was the only explanation as to how Gilbert had found himself in such a compromising situation and enjoying himself there.

Alcohol, and Eli.

If he thought about it, everything was Eli's fault.

Eli had convinced him to move to this danged town. Eli had introduced him to his favorite coffee shop in this danged town. Therefore, it was Eli's fault that he had mat Matthew in said coffee shop, in said danged town. It was most _definitely_ Eli's fault that he and Matthew had ended up at Eli and Bella's for dinner last night. It was Eli's fault that all of Gilbert's (and Matthew's) feelings had been poured out into the open. And it was Eli's fault that he was sore and aching this morning because it was her damned idea to play Twister even though there was an empty wine bottle _and _six-pack of beer on the kitchen counter.

It had been fun at the time, though. Gilbert had to admit that. He was just glad Matthew couldn't see what a fool he definitely must have made of himself last night. Unfortunately, Matthew's memory was nearly eidetic despite his lack of visual sensory input. There would be repercussions, and Gilbert was sure they would surface at the most inopportune moments in the future.

And hey. Now Gilbert didn't have to tip-toe through his feelings for Matthew.

He just had to work up the guts to officially ask him out.

Gilbert tossed his pillow aside and breathed in deeply. First things first – aspirin.

After downing two Advil with a swig of orange Gatorade, Gilbert made his way to the shower and made it a hot one to work out the kinks leftover from Left Foot Blue, Right Hand Red, and Left Hand Green.

How Gilbert managed to stay upright the rest of the day, seated at his desk and suffering his editor yelling to the newsroom in general that there were "deadlines in place for a reason and how do you think we got to be a damn successful paper when half the writers can't get their damn pieces in to print on time?!" must have been mostly in part to two more Advil and a couple Monster energy drinks over the course of the workday. When five o'clock finally rolled around, he headed for his car as fast as he could. He wasn't even to the parking lot before his phone rang. He had to smile when Matthew's name and picture appeared on the screen. "Hey Birdie."

"Hi Gilbert."

"Perfect timing."

"I was waiting."

Gilbert chuckled softly. "Must have been."

"I had fun last night. Really. A lot of fun."

"Good. I did too. I can tell from the little baby hangover I woke up with."

Matthew giggled over the line. "You and Eli did drink quite a bit."

Gilbert grinned. "We do that. Not very often. Just special occasions."

"Last night was a special occasion?"

"Hell yeah," Gilbert chuckled. "You learned all my deepest, darkest, childhood secrets from someone who was there to personally experience them. And _you _called _me_ the next day. That practically makes us soul mates."

Matthew laughed again. "Well. You didn't run away when you met my family, so how could I possibly blame you for yours?"

"Your family's awesome, Matt," Gilbert told him honestly.

"So I _did_ call for a reason," Matthew told him.

"Oh yeah? And I'm glad you did, because I wanted to talk to you, too," Gilbert said as he balanced his phone, keys, and briefcase while trying to unlock his car. Out of nowhere, a large pair of hands appeared and took his briefcase from him. Dropping his keys out of surprise, Gilbert barely managed to hang on to his phone as he turned to look at the person belonging to the pair of hands. His red eyes went wide as recognition filled his senses. Gilbert froze out of complete shock. Matthew's tinny voice echoed out of his phone speaker, but he couldn't register words. "Matt, I'll call you back," Gilbert said finally, pressing the End button without even looking down at his phone. His red eyes were too locked on blue, his brain too busy trying to process the tall, broad, blond young man standing in front of him. Trying to figure out what it meant, why he was here, and how he had found him. Gilbert didn't speak. He couldn't. But Ludwig did it for him.

"Hello Gilbert. It's good to see you."

"How did you find me?" was the first thing Gilbert could get out of his mouth.

Ludwig let out a single laugh. "It isn't hard if you're trying."

"Why did you try?"

"You are my brother," Ludwig said, a frown creasing his brow.

"Yeah, but..." Gilbert looked away. "I figured you wanted to stay on Vater's good side."

"Vater is dead," Ludwig said, the tiniest tinge of sadness lacing his serious voice.

Gilbert looked back up at his brother. "What?"

"Vater died two days ago. Heart attack. It was very unexpected and sudden. The funeral is the day after tomorrow. I... I was hoping you would consider coming."

Gilbert _really_ didn't know how to process this information. His father – the man he'd hated, who had hated _him_ for so long – was dead. Gilbert had wished for it so many times... but he'd never meant it. And that was still back when he was really messed up. His father was dead. And the first thing Ludwig had done was come find Gilbert. To ask him to attend the funeral. "Why? He hated me, you know."

"He did not hate you, Gilbert," Ludwig began, trying to reason with his other brother. Gilbert wasn't having it.

"He did, and we both know it. Don't try and cover it up because you feel sorry for me or some shit. I got over that a long time ago." He hadn't. Ludwig knew _that_ as well.

"I want you to come to the funeral," Ludwig said again. "He was our father, Gilbert. We must give him a good send off."

"There was nothing but bad blood between me and Vater, West, and you know it. He told me never to come back. He told me he hated me, and that I was not worthy to be his son." Gilbert stared hard into his brother's ice blue eyes. "He wouldn't want me at his funeral. Not over his head body," Gilbert said coldly.

"Gilbert... I don't want to do this alone."

Gilbert blinked, staring at his brother. His younger brother, who had always been so much stronger. Or so it seemed. Gilbert had always tried to shield Ludwig from the brunt of everything, be it his father's temper, the arguments they'd shared, or just life in general. But right now, Ludwig just looked like the little brother he'd shared a bedroom with; the only thing he'd missed in walking away seven years ago.

He'd only seen Ludwig twice in that time. Once, during a visitor's day while he was in rehab. Eli'd told him. Ludwig had been sixteen, and patient as the day was long as Gilbert bitterly talked about rehab and their father and his life in general.

Twice, before Ludwig's departure to boot camp. Gilbert had heard the date and location from Eli, who had heard from Ludwig. Gilbert had watched from the outskirts of the bus station as Ludwig said goodbye to their father. He hadn't even planned for Ludwig to see him, but their eyes had met and in that moment, Gilbert knew Ludwig didn't hold anything against him. They were still brothers, despite everything.

And now today. Ludwig was here. Asking his brother to help him get through the funeral of a family member.

How was Gilbert supposed to say no to his baby brother?

"There will be conditions, West," Gilbert said slowly.

Ludwig nodded immediately. "Of course."

"Get in the car. We'll talk more about this at my place." Gilbert pulled open his car door and took his briefcase from his brother before tossing it in the back seat. Ludwig rounded the car and squished himself into the passenger seat of Gilbert's tiny sedan, barely managing to shut the door before Gilbert peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of tires.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: New computer. Please excuse any mistakes as I am still getting used to my new keyboarnd._

_In other news, this story recently reached 100 reviews! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I am so glad you all like it! And, as a reward for being lucky number 100, Vanne-Nessa gets her own cameo in a later chapter of this story! Congratulations Vanessa, and thank you EVERYONE for reading!_

_H.C._

* * *

Gilbert unbuttoned his work shirt and tossed it at his bed. It barely caught the edge, then slid to the floor. He ignored it in favor of tugging on a clean t-shirt, slowly, making sure to stay out of the doorway and out of sight of his little brother's sharp gaze.

He braced himself on the window sill and stared out. He couldn't stall very long, or Ludwig would get suspicious. But what Ludwig wanted him to do... Gilbert honestly wasn't sure he could bring himself to. Sure, it was just a funeral, but it was a funeral for a man he hated. A man who hated _him_. It was sad, but Gilbert didn't feel a thing. And he didn't think he could fake it around all those practical strangers, even just for an afternoon or however long this kind of stuff was supposed to take.

And he didn't want to.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert sighed and shoved himself back from the windowsill. He strode out of his bedroom, past Ludwig sitting on his couch, and straight to the kitchen fridge. "Beer?"

Gilbert glanced over just in time to see his brother's blond head nodding. He turned back and pulled two beers from the shelf, before making his way over to sit across from Ludwig. He planted one beer in the middle of the coffee table and cracked the other open for himself. Silence fell between them for a few moments before Ludwig broke it. "I know I'm asking a lot of you."

"Oh, you think?"

Ludwig stared hard at him, one hand tightly clenched around his drink "Please don't. I know how you two felt about each other."

Gilbert scoffed. "You said you thought he didn't hate me. How much can you possibly know if you didn't know that?"

"He didn't," Ludwig said firmly. "But no one can deny the fact that you two never got along."

"Understatement of the century," Gilbert muttered into his beer. "We had zero in common."

"And you think he hated you because of that?"

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "No. He hated me because I wasn't good enough. He hated me because I was the opposite of everything he was. I wasn't good enough to be his son."

Ludwig sighed heavily and Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Dont, West," he warned his little brother.

"I won't, because you obviously have your mind made up on this subject." Ludwig sat back and lifted his drink toward his mouth. "I still think you should come home for the funeral."

Gilbert stared impassively at his brother. "Do I have to?"

Ludwig shook his head. "I can't _make_ you come, Gilbert. I've never been able to make you do anything in my life. I don't think anyone has. But I do _want_ you to. And... it's not just for the funeral. There's the estate to be taken care of. Father's will-"

"You get everything," Gilbert muttered. "That's what he always said."

Ludwig made no indication he'd heard Gilbert's words. "Since you practically swore on your life you'd never live in that town again, I'll be selling the house. If you want anything from it, you should claim it now."

"Maybe," Gilbert said noncommittally.

"Please Gilbert.

"Geez, Ludwig, would you chill?" Gilbert took a deep swig of beer before continuing. "I don't even know if I can get away. I have a job you know. A life. A crappy one, but a life just the same."

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting the time off. I am asking that you _do_."

Gilbert stared at his brother again in silence for a moment. He really didn't want to. And yet...

The silence was interrupted by a cell phone. Two, actually. Ludwig's went off just a few seconds before Gilbert's began to ring. They looked at each other and each answered their own phone at the same time.

"Yo."

"Gilbert?"

"Oh, hey Matt."

"Are you okay?"

What a loaded question. "Still deciding. Sorry I hung up on you. My brother surprised me."

"Your brother is in town?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Gilbert hesitated only a moment before deciding to be totally straight with Matthew. "Our dad died. Lud wants me to come home for the funeral, and I guess to help him clean out the old house."

"Oh no, that's terrible."

Gilbert closed his eyes and smirked a little. Oh Mattie. "It's something like that."

"Gilbert, it doesn't matter how much you two fought while he was alive, he's still your father. Was. When do you leave?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to yet."

"Gilbert, you have to," Matthew said immediately.

"I don't want to."

"Gilbert," Matthew said warningly. "You are going."

"Will you go with me?" Gilbert wasn't sure where the request came from, only that, as soon as it came out, Gilbert was hoping Matthew would say yes.

"T-to your father's funeral?"

"Yeah. Just... come with me for the weekend. Please Matt? I honestly don't think I can do this."

"Of course you can, Gilbert," Matthew said.

"See? This is why I need you to come. You're so optimistic!"

Matthew laughed softly over the line. "I'll have to ask my Dad."

"Of course," Gilbert said. "You ask 'em and call me back."

"Okay," Matthew said before hanging up. "I'll call you back."

Gilbert ended the call and looked up to see his brother just wrapping up his own phone call. "No, I'll be home tomorrow, Feli." Ludwig stared down at the floor as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Yes. Okay. I-" Ludwig broke off with a cough and turned further away from Gilbert. "I love you too," he murmured, bringing a surprised smirk to Gilbert's face. "I'll call you tonight. Goodbye."

"Do you have a girlfriend, West?" Gilbert asked as soon as his brother hung up the phone.

Ludwig looked up at Gilbert with pink cheeks. "No," he said firmly.

"Really, 'cuz it sounded like a girlfriend."

"It was not my girlfriend," Ludwig stated absolutely. "Where were we?"

"The terms and conditions of my agreeing to come with you."

"Ahh. Somehow I didn't think we were quite that far yet, but..." Ludwig nodded for Gilbert to go on.

"One. I stay until Sunday. That's it."

"Fine."

"Two. I get to bring a guest."

Ludwig looked puzzled. "A gu-"

"No questions, just a plus one."

"Okay... fine," Ludwig said.

"Three. I don't have to act sad about this shit."

"Gilbert, you can't-"

"I didn't say I was gonna be fucking happy about it, I said I don't have to pretend to be sad. Because I'm not. But I'm not happy either. I'm neutral."

Ludwig gave another sigh, but nodded in agreement.

"Okay. Good. Then I will come."

"Thank you," Ludwig said honestly.

"Whatever," Gilbert said. "You get the couch tonight, we'll leave in the morning. You hungry?"

Ludwig nodded.

"Let's go grab something to eat. There's a place on Main with awesome burgers."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I wanted to upload this last week, and I lost my document. This is the first change I've had to rewrite it. *sob* My apologies for the wait._

_H.C._

* * *

Morning came a lot faster than Gilbert anticipated. Still dreading the weekend ahead, he unintentionally dragged his feet until his brother came in and finished packing for him. Matthew and Arthur arrived before Ludwig had even zipped the bags shut, precisely on time. Arthur held what was presumably Matthew's suitcase before him in both hands while Matthew smiled warmly, holding his cane in his hands. Gilbert knew he didn't like using it, but it would be necessary somewhere so unfamiliar. Upon their arrival, Gilbert thanked Matthew for the umpteenth time for agreeing to come, and thanked Arthur for letting him come.

"No problem whatsoever," Arthur told him. "Matthew wanted to go so badly." The Englishman smiled sadly at the brothers as Ludwig joined them with Gilbert's suitcase in hand. "Francis and I want you to know that we are deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you very much, Mister..." Ludwig faltered slightly when he realized he didn't know a last name.

"Kirkland," Arthur supplied. "But, please. Call me Arthur."

"Arthur, then," Ludwig finished. "I am Ludwig. It is good to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure. Well, I'm sure you boys would like to be off soon, so I'll be going now."

"I'll walk down with you," Ludwig offered. "Gilbert?"

"Yeah, I'll lock up and be right down."

"I'll come with Gilbert," Matthew said quietly.

"Have a safe trip," Arthur said, setting the case down beside Matthew's bright red sneakers and wrapping the younger man in a hug. "Call if you need anything at all. We'll see you when you get home."

"Love you, Dad," Matthew murmured.

"Love you, too, lad." Arthur pressed his cheek against Matthew's hair before pulling back. "So now then, Ludwig, was it? What is it you do, lad?"

Their voices trailed off into nothing and Gilbert grasped Matthew by the arm, pulling him out of the apartment. "Here's your bag," Gilbert said, setting Matthew's hand on the handle of the case. "I'll just lock up quick and we can go meet West."

"'Kay," Matthew agreed readily. He heard Gilbert's keys jingle, and the lock clicking, and then Gilbert picked up Matthew's case and looped his hand through Matthew's arm.

"For the record, I apologize that the first time I've officially asked you out was to a funeral."

"Oh was this the first official time?" Matthew asked, a bemused smile on his face.

"Yup," Gilbert confirmed as he hit the button for the elevator.

"Ahh. Well then, I guess you'll just have to make it up to me somehow," Matthew teased.

"All right, I will," Gilbert grinned. "Promise."

Matthew didn't look like he planned to hold Gilbert to that, but it was a nice sentiment at least. It isn't like it was supposed to be a date or anything. Do people bring dates to funerals? Gilbert on the other hand was already trying to figure out where he could take Matt on a date tonight so that he didn't have to tell Eli that the first time he took Matthew out officially was to his dad's funeral.

The three hour drive wasn't so bad. Ludwig didn't ask any questions about Matthew beyond the basics, and Gilbert didn't volunteer any information about their relationship. It was the least he could do since Ludwig had clammed up on _his_ relationship status – or lack thereof. Matthew was as charming as always, though, and Ludwig seemed pretty comfortable with Matthew's presence by the time they pulled up in front of the house the Beilschmidt boys had grown up in.

Gilbert helped Matthew out of the car and stared up at the window that used to belong to his bedroom. So many memories were surfacing right now, and most of them weren't good ones. Matthew seemed to sense his discomfort and tightened his grip on the albino's arm. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Gilbert replied in an equally soft tone.

"It'll be okay," Matthew told him. "That's why you brought me, eh?"

Gilbert had to smile, just a little, at that. "Yeah, that's why. Come on... let's go inside."

In the house, Gilbert could see Ludwig had already been busy. "Holy crap, Lud," Gilbert said. "Did Vater buy out a box factory?"

Ludwig glanced around as if he hadn't noticed the piles and piles of boxes around them. "No. I had some help packing up, and they continued while I went to track you down. They made more headway than I anticipated," he said, looking around again. "Vater kept all your things in the attic, if you'd like to go have a look."

"I'm, uh... I'll hold off on that a little," Gilbert told him.

"Ludwig!" shouted an overtly cheerful voice, accompanied by a sudden blur of blue and auburn that attached itself to the younger Beilschmidt. Gilbert's brow furrowed and Matthew' head tilted. "You're back! I missed you! You should see the house, Lovi and I packed almost everything up and he didn't even break anything by throwing it and he said that was because you weren't here so he didn't have to throw things but I think it's because he was just being nice."

"Shut up, idiot, you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

A grin broke across Gilbert's face as he finally placed the two boys who had lived next door for almost as long as Gilbert could remember. "Lovino! Feliciano!"

Feliciano's head twisted around to look at Gilbert, his hazel eyes wide.

"Hello to you too, bastard," snapped the disembodied voice of Lovino, trailing out of the kitchen.

Feliciano disengaged himself from Ludwig and pulled Gilbert into a tight hug. "Hello again Mister Gilbert! It's been a really, really long time since I've seen you, huh? I didn't know if you'd recognize me because Luddy said I grew lots since last time you left but I guess you did so maybe I didn't change that much. Did I change a lot, Mister Gilbert?"

"Yeah, you did. I almost didn't recognize you."

Feli grinned proudly. "I'm twenty-two now!" he announced proudly. "Lovino is twenty-four!"

Gilbert just smiled. The kid was still crazy adorable and as hyper as ever. "Sounds about right. You two still live next door?"

"Yes! With Grandpa Augustus!"

"Holy shit, that bastard's still kicking?" Gilbert spit out.

Lovino scoffed loudly and appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. "As if he'd ever be anything else until he's six feet under."

Matthew quietly cleared his throat and Gilbert regained his manners. "Oh shit. Hey, guys, this is Matthew. Matt, this is Lovino and Feliciano. Lovino's the cranky-ass bastard, and Feli's the happiest little guy in the world."

Feliciano suddenly attacked Matthew with a tight, friendly hug, surprising Matthew and catching him off guard. "N-nice to meet you."

"All right, well, Matt and I are gonna go check in at the hotel. We'll see you in the morning."

"Wait! Aren't you going to stay for dinner?" Feliciano asked.

"Not tonight, bud," Gilbert said gently. "Tomorrow for sure."

Feliciano beamed happily and released Matthew. "Okay! It was nice to meet you, Mister Matthew!"

"Be here at eight tomorrow morning, please, bruder," Ludwig said.

"Will do."

"Can you find your way to the hotel yourself, Gilbert?"

"I think I can manage it, Lud." Gilbert grabbed Matthew's arm and headed for the door. "See you guys in the morning."


End file.
